


A Very Bad Day

by evening_spirit



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Gen, Graphic Description of Injury, Plane Crash, whump!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-16
Updated: 2011-06-16
Packaged: 2017-10-20 11:43:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evening_spirit/pseuds/evening_spirit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny thought - scratch that - he knew Steve was doing this on purpose. "It's called turbulence, Danno." Hurt-comfort with emphasis on hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Bad Day

**Beta:**  by **bigj52** and later chapters additionally by **Geogiamw13**. Thank you both very much, this story would not have been half as readable without you!

 **Disclimer:**  Not mine. I only borrowed them and f*ed them up good. Promise to fix before returning.

 

***

 **A Very Bad Day**

 **  
_Uila_   
**

***

"Would you  _stop,_ " Danny uttered through clenched teeth. He thought - scratch that - he  _knew_  Steve was doing this on purpose. That over-flooded with testosterone piece of red-footed boobie guano Navy Seal wanted his partner to lose all his hair and turn the remaining ones grey!

"It's called turbulence, Danno," McGarrett responded without his usual tease, laser-focused on piloting instead and that's when Danny started feeling scared. Not 'McGarrett, if you pull one more of your crazy-ass stunts I'm gonna rip your head off' kind of scared but rather 'McGarrett, you better freaking do  _something_!' kind of scared. And that sucked because  _something_  was usually far worse than a crazy stunt and he would be asking for it. Of course Danny wasn't saying any of this aloud; he was not stupid or suicidal, mind you. Instead, his mouth and tongue were rambling something about how flying in wind and rain was dangerous and how the Governor sending them there surely meant she wanted them dead and that maybe they should simply land . . . That earned him a tight-lipped "Shut up." from McGarrett.

It worked like a 'panic-mode-ON' switch and Danny's mouth clammed shut.

"He knows what he's doing." Chin Ho's voice behind him was as soft and smooth as ever and Danny wondered how the man was able to be soft and smooth under these circumstances. It almost made him switch off his panic mode for a moment long enough to tear one into the Hawaiian, but only almost. He calculated that biting Chin's head off in a plane that shook and swayed and dropped what felt like three thousand feet every ten seconds would not be the best idea. He only turned and, because Chin was directly behind him, didn't burn him with his stare. Instead he met Kono's smirking eyes and suddenly didn't want  _anything_  to do with  _any_  of them.

It's not that Detective Daniel Williams was afraid of flying. He was not. He was simply uncomfortable in ten tonnes of metal, hovering three thousand feet above the ground, on nothing but a few liters of gasoline. And every - as McGarrett said -  _turbulence_ , every tremble and quiver; every plunge and every dive were much more perceptible in a small craft than they would be in a huge passenger airliner.

Not to mention that the pilot was no one else but Steve McGarrett, Lieutenant Commander, freaking Navy-Super-Seal and McGyver when it came to combat, driving and  _flying skillz_  and the amount of explosives he carried on him.

Danny couldn't tell if he thought about explosives before, or after  _something freaking exploded_! . . .

Later Steve said it was an electric discharge, a common-folk lightning, and that something like this hitting a plane was extremely rare. Well, apparently they were extremely unlucky. At the moment though, it felt like a nuclear detonation combined with an angry Loch Ness Monster on air and then Danny heard the engines wheeze and McGarrett's "Mayday! Mayday!" and Kono's frigntened gasp. - ha! She was smirking fifteen seconds ago! What about this, Kono? - and then he saw treetops emerging from between the clouds and in the blink of an eye they were deep between the leaves and a branch broke the windshield. Danny's breath caught in his throat and he probably closed his eyes and maybe his ears too, because the next thing he heard was silence and soft rustling . . . and a moan . . .

 

***

 **  
_Ula Ahi_   
**

***

Nothing could veer Steve McGarrett from his task. He'd always been rigorous and military training had only heightened his sense of obligation and determination. He regarded strenuous circumstances as a challenge and he knew, was confident, he had it in him to overcome all obstacles.

This mission had appeared simple. A body had been found in Hilo on the Big Island, dressed in a Navy uniform while - one - there was no military base on the Big Island and - two - no military personnel had been reported missing from the other bases. Naval Crime Investigators had started on the case of course, but the Governor had wanted Five-0 to take a look at it as well. It might turn out to be a civilian matter after all.

The fastest way to the Big Island was on a plane and Steve . . . had a pilot's license. He couldn't understand why Danny was surprised.

When they had taken off from Kalaeloa airport in the early afternoon there had been no signs of any imminent trouble. The sky had been clear, the ocean blue and the islands as beautiful from above as they were from the ground. After half an hour - around one-third of their trip - they'd reached Moloka'i and Chin had told Danno that the sparsely populated island was regarded by the Sustainable Tourism Committee as the tenth on Earth worth visiting. Steve was familiar with its pristine landscape and as they'd flown over, he had smiled at his memories.

That was when he had noticed a cloud mass on the horizon beyond the Big Island; a storm had been building up. Having contacted the meteorological station the pilot had concluded that he would most likely reach Hilo after the cloud would have dissipated, so he'd continued the flight undisturbed.

Kono and Chin had been annoying Danno with their praises of Lanai and Maui.

Another half an hour later, their Cessna had flown above the northern-most peninsula of the Hawaii Island. The tower in Hilo had contacted the pilot with information that the expected thunderstorm had still been maturing and that the wind had pushed it inland.

"Is that bad news?" Kono had asked and Danny had started freaking out.

The pilot had had three choices then: turn back and land in a small airport on the peninsula; turn toward the ocean and fly around the storm, or land in Kailua, another airport on the western side of the island. Steve McGarrett had decided on the fourth alternative - go to Hilo anyway.

If he'd shared his five-second decision-making process with Danno, he would have surely heard that turning back was the safest and most desirable option but such words as 'turning back' obviously didn't exist in Steve McGarrett's vocabulary. Or perhaps a more wordy variation of the above. Perhaps Danno would be right.

Steve McGarrett had known that flying around the storm might require more fuel than they had to spare, especially if the conditions in Hilo would still be adverse. Flying to Kailua had been out of the question for similar reasons - with this wind the probability of reaching the airport simultaneously with the storm had been high and then they would have to take the detour to Hilo anyway. And yes, it had been true that he hadn't spared the idea of turning back a second thought.

He had had to lower the aircraft to avoid icing the wings in the supercooled zone of the cloud and to maintain the acceptable level of visibility. Mauna Kea, almost fourteen thousand feet above the sea level, loomed over them on the right, her peak fading away in the mist and rain. Downcurrents had kept pushing the Cessna toward the ground and lateral blasts had threatened to either push them to the sea or smash them against the side of the volcano. Holding the shifter had required more strength than usual and Danny's rant really hadn't been helpful.

This was how they'd ended up the way they had.

***

Steve didn't lose consciousness for one second. He was painfully aware of the wail of the wind, of the air being torn apart by the wings of the falling aircraft. When the windshield broke and the mist hurt his eyes, leaves and wood fragments cutting his face, he fought to keep their descent route in sight, no matter how little good it would do. Especially after one of the wings was torn from the side and the cabin propelled through the rainforest like a stone and hit the ground with force of a fist of a mad Marut.

This was the only moment Steve slowed down. After the nose of the plane had burrowed in the dirt and the craft had stopped with a rasp and grind, he spent a few seconds staring at the falling debris and leaves and streams of rain, and fighting to catch his breath.

Then he inhaled forcefully and looked sharply to the side. Danny was bent over at a wrong angle and was not moving; Chin, his head thrown back, appeared sleeping, nothing worse and Kono . . .

"Oh, God," Kono moaned.

"Are you hurt?" McGarrett asked, unstrapping himself and checking Danny's pulse at the same time.

"I don't think so," Kono responded, although her voice was laced with pain.

"Like hell," was Danny's retort. "Why do I always- end up hurt- when Imma 'round you."

Hearing his friend's usual whine Steve couldn't help but chuckle, the minute tension reliever interrupted when a stab of pain seared through his chest.

"We need to get out of the plane," he uttered. "Where does it hurt?" He helped Danny to sit back up and was shaken at the sight of his cut face and a grimace of agony. "Danno?" he breathed out.

"Everywhere," Danny whispered, still without opening his eyes.

"Chin won't wake up," Kono cried from the back row.

Shit!

The rain was falling heavily but Steve could smell something burning and if the fuel tank was damaged the plane might explode any minute. They had to get out now!

"Kono, grab the med-kit - it's right behind you - and get out. Can you move?"

"Yes, but Chin . . ."

"I'll get him. Danny, what about you?"

"I can't- move-"

This was bad. This was very, very bad.

First, Steve helped Kono through the front windshield. Miraculously she escaped with a few cuts and bruises and jumped the three feet down the nose of the plane without much wincing.

"Wait," Steve told her and leaned over Danny. "I'm gonna have to get you outta here, brah," he said almost apologetically.

"I bet." Such a short answer from Danny was strange.

Steve took in his appearance. Eyes tightly shut, lips pursed, hands limp on his knees. Zero movement, he didn't even seem to be breathing. There was no way Steve could secure his spine and hurry up enough to still get Chin out. "I'm sorry," he muttered under his breath and begun by lifting Danny's arms to throw them over his neck.

"Aaargh!" Danny cried out in pain.

"What?- Where?-"

Danny only hissed, pointing with his left hand to the right collarbone. Good. That was good. At least he could feel the pain and he could move, so maybe it was not his spine. At least not the neck. Okay, another try. Steve leaned forward and grabbed Danny's waist, carefully lifting him in a fireman's grip. Danny cried out again but this time he added, "My knee! Fuck- my fucking knee!"

"Good," Steve hissed, "Knee is good." His chest ached but he remembered his training. Hell week. Survival is ninety percent the will, the mind, and only ten percent the body. He could overcome his pain. He had colleagues to save.

As he was climbing out of the cockpit he felt Danny go slack; he probably fainted from all the torture. That was good too. Probably. Maybe.

"Kono," he breathed out. "Help. Lower'im. Gently. I'll go get Chin."

Again, the same procedure with a fireman's grip; only this time it was with merely a small grunt from the injured colleague, no whines or moans or cries. Chin was completely knocked out and Steve didn't want to think about repercussions of that, not yet, not until they were safely away from the plane. Another - ignored - stab of pain . . . More difficult to climb out of the back row . . . Vision blurred for a split second . . . He needed to stop in the windshield, lean over, catch his breath. And move on, move on.

"Kono . . . Yes . . . Good."

Jump down.

"Are you hurt?" Kono's frightened voice.

"No." He didn't wince, did he? "Lem'me" Again this stab of pain, as he took the weight of his colleague. Ignore, ignore. How far would be far enough? There is still Danno, too close to the plane. Twenty steps? Sheltered behind the trees . . .

He ran back to Danny and Kono, kneeling beside him, the med kit thrown negligently on the ground. Danny was already waking up and moaning.

"No, not again."

"I have to, brah. If it's too much you'll simply faint again."

"I hate- to faint!"

This time Steve swayed as he stood up too rapidly. Felt Kono's cold grip on his arm before he saw her face when his vision returned.

"M'fine . . . Get the med kit."

He ordered her to return, to lean down, to pick it up. Waste precious seconds. He was almost at the tree line and she was a few steps behind him when a mighty roar tore the jungle apart. The blast threw him on the ground, pinning Danny's legs under his weight. Danny screamed again and his cry of pain mixed with Kono's.

"Kono!" Steve pushed up and swirled around.

The girl was writhing on the ground, clothes on her back burning.

The fire was everywhere, clumps of it all around them and the plane, less than twenty yards away, blazed like ten thousand devils.

 

***

 **  
_Koko_   
**

***

Without a spare thought Steve threw off his jacket and jumped on Kono, beating at the flames. The rain was still pouring heavily. In a few seconds the fire on the girl was extinguished but her shirt was in shreds, her shining long hair in wet, smoking, ashy strands and her back under the remnants of fabric was red like a boiled lobster. What was the worst though, and Kono pointed to it a second after McGarrett had noticed it himself, was a piece of the alloy plating sticking out from under the back of her right knee. It was soaked with fast flowing bright red blood.

"Damn!" McGarrett kneeled beside her, ignoring the heat still radiating from the burning plane. The rain would take care of the fire, hopefully. "I need to take it out."

Kono nodded with a stifled sob and curled her palms in fists, holding onto grass. She cried out only once, when he jerked the sharp piece of metal out. Then he pressed with all his strength against the severed artery. He needed to set up a tourniquet.

"Kono," he looked at her face. "Can you hold it here?" She didn't react. She lay on her left side, her upper body supported on elbows. Her head was bowed and what was left of her hair obscured her face. Steve needed her help. He needed more hands than his two. "Kono . . ."

"What's going on?" A question was asked with anger and disbelief.

"Chin?" Steve looked up. He felt hope, he really did, for the split second before he saw Chin's face. Eyes darting from Danny to the blazing plane, to Kono, back to Danny, to the trees all around them.

"What is it? Where are we?"  _Kama'aina_  mumbled, confused, then scrambled to his feet, swaying slightly. He was not all back. It was a miracle that he was conscious at all and trusting he would help was stretching things but Steve really needed more than one miracle now.

"Chin," he knew he had to try extra hard to get the man's attention. "Chin, get here, quick."

"Wat's happ'nin?"

"Chin!" Steve yelled. "Come, here!" It worked. At least partially.

"Kono-" Chin ran to them, kneeled in front of his cousin and grabbed her arms. No, this was not what Steve had in mind.

"Chin, look at me. Chin!" Finally. Glazed over but Chin's eyes met his. "The bag. It's next to your left knee." He needed to give short, one-sentence commands in order to get through to Chin's concussed brain.

"What happened, Steve?" It was still very difficult.

"Your left knee!" Steve repeated. He needed Chin to focus. Chin looked at the bag but did not let go of Kono's arms. "Open the bag." Hesitantly, as if uncertain of the purpose of this item, Chin reached out. "Give me scissors." The Korean rummaged through the bag and Steve hoped that he would remember the command long enough to find the instrument. He did. Looked up questioningly, handing it to Steve. "Now, go over there," Steve pointed to the other side of Kono's injured leg, "and give me your hand." He guided Chin's fingers to press against the pulsing artery. As he let go momentarily, the blood flowed in spurts and waves again. "Press it hard, as hard as you can."

"What happened?" Chin begged helplessly.

"We crashed. And then the plane exploded." Steve explained briefly, cutting Kono's pants off. He peeled them away carefully, checking if her thighs were not burned. Then he pushed a codeine shot into her uninjured leg, applied the pressure dressing and finally looked at her back. Her skin was mostly very red but it was raw in a few places and blisters were forming along her shoulder blades. At least the rain took care of cooling the wounds. Steve found the sterile burn sheet and covered Kono's back with it, at the same time trying to explain their situation to Chin as best as he could.

"We need to keep her warm." Steve hoped that there was a space blanket in this med kit and he found something even better - a saline bag, complete with a line and a sterile needle. He closed his eyes, giving a quick thanks to whoever prepared these first-aid supplies. Then he spread the thin sheet of plastic, covered with metallic film on the grass.

"Help me put this under her," he asked Chin. Together they covered Kono, still face down so as not to jar her back any more. Steve did not like that she was completely unresponsive. Her skin was cold and clammy and her breathing became ragged and shallow. She was going into shock, like he feared she would.

Finding a branch that would serve as a stand and setting up an IV to re-hydrate Kono concluded Steve's ministrations to the rookie. There was nothing more he could do for her.

"At least Chin's alright, that's a relief, isn't it, Kono?" He stroked her hair and looked at her face, praying for some . . . any reaction. Her eyelids closed tighter and a lone tear flowed down her nose. When her cousin touched her palm her fingers intertwined with his and squeezed lightly. "Keep her calm. Stay here." Steve said that aloud and then reached for a lighter and mouthed, "Let me see your eyes," crouching in front of the Korean.

Chin's eyebrows jumped up in a silent question but he understood. His confusion had dissipated and he was responding well to commands. As McGarrett shone into his pupils he saw they were equal and reactive at least as far as he could diagnose them.

"You're a real miracle, Chin." He wanted to hug his friend and he was close to tears with gratitude but before he could collapse he had one more casualty to take care of.

***

Danny's world revolved around the experience of having his bones broken. He counted three, at least. Well, the knee was not technically broken, it was badly sprained. More than before. He remembered that ache, the dull throbbing and that had been nothing compared to the current sensation of being smashed every second with a red-hot sledgehammer.

His collarbone was cracked; it twinged with every heartbeat just like the knee, but whenever he tried to move - his head, his little finger - the pain would spark up and - really, he was not imagining this! - he could hear fragments of bones grinding against each other.

The wrist didn't hurt that much. After a couple of minutes of laying still Danny decided that it was sprained too, some ligatures torn maybe, no shattered bones.

He didn't complain or call for help. He did not move to see anything but he could hear enough commotion to realize that something bad had happened to Kono and he trusted that MacGyver would be at his side, setting his bones and taking away they pain as soon as he could. McGarrett, not MacGyver, he corrected himself - pain was turning his brain into marmalade. He wondered if they had any morphine in that magic med-kit. He wouldn't mind some morphine, preferably now.

"Hey, Danno," he heard a whisper and realized he'd closed his eyes and maybe drifted off a little. He opened them and looked up. Fern trees were hanging their wide, fan-shaped branches - or were they leaves? - high above his head, the rain was still washing down his face but he could see the sun streaks penetrating the thick green canopy. McGarrett's eyes were dark with concern and focused, so focused. Sometimes he would get so focused, Danny thought he could move walls with his stare alone. "Can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," Danny rasped.

"Can you tell me where it hurts?"

"Everywhere."

"Okay. Where it hurts the most?"

"Collar-bone, knee and wrist."

"You feel that?" McGarrett squeezed his ankle, luckily of the uninjured leg, and Danny grunted a 'yes'. "No numbness, tingling?" A 'no'. "Any pain in your back?" Again a 'no'. "I'll pull your shirt up and see if you sustained any internal injury," Steve warned.

"Oh, you just want an excuse to touch me," Danny attempted a joke but a chuckle made his fractured collarbone move and he saw stars. A gasp escaped his lips and he fell silent.

McGarrett's hands were delicate and warm against his skin and they didn't cause any pain. He gingerly traced his ribs then his stomach and stopped low, short of becoming uncomfortably close to the more personal zone.

"Nothing feels broken or swollen," he announced softly and conjured a syringe from his magic bag. "Codeine," he explained stabbing Danny in his right arm. "Now, I'll help you sit up."

"D'you have to?"

"I don't but it will be the least painful this way."

"Okay, okay, wait!" Danny put up a hand weakly. Perhaps when the painkiller would start working? "What about them?" he stalled.

Steve glanced to the side.

"Chin has a bad concussion," he answered reluctantly. "He's good now but he may deteriorate again any minute. Kono . . ." he inhaled and closed his eyes, and - Danny couldn't call it any other way - made  _a face_. A face that meant he was exhausted and frightened and probably feeling guilty as hell. And poor bastard probably was not aware of any of those emotions. Danny blinked quickly a couple of times, before his stubborn Super Seal of a friend might notice his concern. Steve sighed, "Burns and arterial bleeding." What? Ah, Kono. "She's in shock. She may not make it if we don't get help quick," Steve's voice was barely above a whisper.

Danny nodded with understanding, then added, "You?"

Super Seal looked up, surprised. "Me? I'm fine."

There was no point arguing this, especially since Steve effectively shut him up with new, albeit muffled, fireworks of pain when, not waiting for Danny's consent he lifted his right forearm and placed it on his chest, securing it with his palm. It hurt like a sonofabitch but Danno gritted his teeth and did not cry out. He reserved that for later. He felt McGarrett's other hand slide under his back.

"Ready?" McGarrett's breath tickled his ear. Danny nodded and grunted, keeping his eyes tightly shut. He was mentally preparing himself for the worst and was absolutely and utterly surprised when he found himself sitting up with only slight pang in his arm. Of course right then the jungle started spinning madly and it took a disctinctive while for it to stop.

"Whoa . . ."

Steve kept holding him tight until Danny puffed out a mouthful of air and nodded that he was fine. He supported his upper body in a relatively vertical position with his good hand and tried to keep his head and neck as level as possible. This forced him to look directly at Chin and Kono and he was certain he saw the rookie who was covered with a metallic blanket up to her ears, move.

"She's conscious," he noticed.

Steve glanced at her again, "In and out," he admitted. "She needs to stay calm and I hope the pain meds have taken the edge off."

He was staring in her direction for some time, holding the unopened dressing in his hands. A sling, Danny presumed, for his arm. Then he fleetingly looked up at the canopy, the sky and Danny knew that he was expecting something. Some help. And not from God.

But the help was not coming.

Danny had known Lt Cdr Steve McGarrett for only a few months but he was perceptive enough to read him well already. He could see behind the bravado and false reassurances and the tough-guy demeanor. True, McGarrett  _was_  tough most of the time, the toughest he'd ever met, but even he had moments when he was a human being like the rest of them. Right now Danny was seeing exactly that - a human being.

Steve's face was covered with small cuts and droplets of dried blood that he hadn't even wiped and who knew what other injury he was neglecting. His eyes were dark, haunted. Again Danny thought about guilt - McGarrett had been flying; he'd crashed. Danny knew that this could happen to anybody, even an experienced pilot. He also knew that he wouldn't accomplish anything by trying to be reassuring. The only way with McGarrett was playing by his own rules - tough love, was it?

"You really blew it this time, man," he ranted, watching as Steve unfolded the bandage. "You fly like you drive, no respect for speed, for the trees. And I always bear the consequences. Why do I always bear the consequences? Why is it always me who gets hurt and you get out with nothing but a scratch?"

Steve didn't respond. He only shook his head and leaned to secure the bandage on Danny's arm. He was as gentle with his ministrations as it was possible, Danny noticed and he couldn't bring himself to be mad at McGarrett. All he felt was sympathy and worry.

"You know, that knee has only just healed," he tried again but he had no steam. It might probably be attributed to the medication doping him as well. He had a feeling his speech was a lil' bit slurred. "Now I'm gonna have to get back on crutches or sumthin' . . ."

"Quit bitching, Danno," McGarrett cut in quietly.

"I'm bitching?"

"You're bitching."

"Because I'm always bitching. That's who I am. That's what I do."

"Yeah, but it's not like you're the only one hurt." Steve closed his eyes and bit his lips as if he wanted to take those words back.

"That's kind of the point," Danny announced, not wanting to allow his friend to feel awkward and was met with a skeptical stare. "See, if I was not bitching they might think that something was not right," he gestured toward the cousins. "This way I'm making the situation seem more familiar, more normal.

"Ah!" Steve finished up with his arm and Danny felt kind of like a mummy. Half-mummy to be exact. He couldn't even shrug. Which was a good thing, considering. Steve moved over to tend to his injured leg now. "So you're doing this for altruistic reasons."

"Of course. I'm an altruist deep in my heart."

"Very deep."

"Very deep. And as an altruist I might also tell you that all this wasn't your fault, but I'm not that altruistic."

He waited for McGarrett to respond; their bickering was not as heated as it should have been, nonetheless Danny was hoping the ex-Navy would go with the flow, lower his guard and expose his vulnerable underbelly. No such chance. Steve focused on his task again. He found two long branches and placed them on each sides of Danny's leg, then started wrapping the bandage around them. If Danny wanted to get through to him, he needed to change the strategy.

"Alright," he started again. "It wasn't your fault. All this recklessness and bravado and . . ." He knew he wasn't telling the truth. McGarrett's flying wasn't reckless or unnecessarily brash, he didn't really think it; all he wanted was to make his friend finally  _talk_!

And talk he did.

"It's not that, Danny," Steve cut in, locking eyes. "It's not reckless flying in the storm; it's flying  _into it_  in the first place." He paused and Danny felt his stomach churn. He wasn't going to like what he was about to hear, Steve's face made that one clear. "I should have landed on that airport in the peninsula and I didn't. Didn't want to turn back, I don't know," he shrugged. "Don't try to tell me that I couldn't have known. Or any other nonsense like that, Danny, okay?"

"Peninsula? There was an airport on the peninsula?" Danny asked incredulously. So they could have avoided this whole hullabaloo completely?

"Yes. And I didn't take that opportunity. I don't know why, because trust me, Danny, I may not seem like this to you . . . but I'm not someone who takes  _stupid_  risks . . . and yet I did." He paused and then added, turning back to his magic med-kit. "I have no excuse. No use wasting time thinking about it."

Danny had to admit he had no words at this moment. He'd wanted to be mad at McGarrett before, for entirely . . . altruistic reasons. Had wanted to argue because that was what the two of them were usually doing and because it might help. Right now . . . Right now he was so furious he could  _strangle_  the asshole if he had two healthy hands!

 

***

 **  
_Pa'u_   
**

***

I owe a great THANK YOU! to  **zolac_no_miko**  who educated me on the landscape, routes, plants, dangers and beauty of the Big Island. I blatantly used her tips without much refining and I hope you will have a whiff of misty Hawaiian air from this chapter. ** __**

***

"I'm gonna help you move over there, with them," McGarrett spoke when he finished bandaging Danny's leg, nodding at Chin and Kono. His voice was hoarse, eyes cast downward. "But first I wanted to tell you a few things." He looked up, a hint of uncertainty hidden under his carefully indifferent expression. "You with me?"

"Am I with you?" Danny spat. "Yes, I am with you. Where else would I be? It's not like I can . . . I don't know, waltz my way out of here!"

McGarrett sighed. "I gave you a codeine shot. You may feel a little woozy," he explained. After a brief pause, that Danny did not interrupt out of sheer benevolence, he inhaled and started talking. "Listen up. Kono suffered some partial thickness burns on her back and an arterial wound on her lower leg. Do not remove the dressing on either wound. If the bandage on her leg is soaked through and you think she's still bleeding, all that needs to be done is to add another layer. Chin had a concussion. Right now there's no way to rule out intracranial bleeding. He'll need a CAT scan for that. All we can do is watch out for signs. Agitation or sudden tiredness, weakness. Confusion, things like that. Any behavior out of the ordinary. Plus they both need to stay calm and be resting. This is why I'm going to leave  _you_  in charge." There was something vaguely odd about the way McGarrett was speaking but for the moment Danny ignored it, enraged with the implications of what he'd heard.

"In- Whoa! In what? Where are  _you_  going?"

"I'm gonna try and get help. Listen to me, Danny!" He put up a hand. "You're gonna have to watch over them. There is some water in the kit. They can have a drink but . . . before you let them, you need to check if . . . if they are fully alert first. Do you know how to do that?"

Danny knew. He'd had first-aid classes, thank you very much. Police workforce needed to be skilled with handling wounds, burns and head injuries among all, as much as any other first-response personnel. Oh, obviously his training was not as sophisticated as that of a fucking Navy Seal but he did know that asking a question like 'Do you know who I am?' was pointless, because it could be answered with a nod, even if the person didn't actually  _know_.

"Okay." Steve bowed his head again, then stood up, walked around Danny and crouched at his uninjured left side. Put Danny's arm around his neck, embraced him and said, "On three: one . . . two . . ." He pulled up and Danny used all of his strength to push with his good leg, holding the hurt one high in the air. They raised and swayed, McGarrett waddling a little, head bowed again, chin-to-chest, his breathing uneven. He coughed once, a harsh, crackling sound.

"Whoa! Steve . . ."

"You steady?" McGarrett rasped.

"Are you?" Danny, against his better judgment, felt concern for his colleague. He really didn't want to go all softie on him but he couldn't help himself. Steve solved his conundrum by ignoring it completely.

"Let's try then." He pushed and pulled so Danny had no choice but to hop along. After seven - he counted - painful hops Steve helped him down, next to Chin and propped him against a boulder. Then he nodded wordlessly at Kono.

"She's asleep," Chin understood the unsaid question. "I think she's improving, her breathing's slowed and her pulse feels stronger."

Steve touched her wrist and nodded. "Good. How's your head?" Danny realized what was strange about Steve's speech pattern. He used short sentences or would take a small inhale in the middle of longer ones. His breathing was shallow; obviously some sort of chest injury.

"Hurts," Chin apparently hadn't noticed, only paying attention to Kono.

"Any dizziness?"

"Yeah."

"Look, I'm not giving you any pain medication. You'll just have to tough it out."

"I will." Chin agreed. They were all aware of how these kinds of injuries should be treated, with the obvious exception of chest trauma.

Steve leaned over Kono, peeked under the blanket, inspected the dressing on her leg and stated it satisfactory.

"Chin, I already spoke to Danny. I'm gonna go find help. He's in charge, okay? Whatever he says, you do. Understood?"

Chin nodded reluctantly and glanced toward Danny. Yeah, alright, so he didn't find this idea compelling either, for whatever reason. Good, because Danny was about to try and talk McGarrett out of a kamikaze mission. Something that would require extra nerve and not a single one of them had enough.

"I don't know if it's such a good plan," he started and was immediately knocked off his game.

"It's the only plan, Danny." Steve glared at him and licked his lips. They were chapped and, Danny wasn't sure, but he thought they had a bluish tinge to them. "We have to get help and we'd better do it before it gets dark."

"You did call 'Mayday', didn't you? I'm sure I heard it!"

"We were hit by lightning. It's possible that the radio circuits got fried. If anyone had gotten it, they'd be here by now." He stood up and Danny realized how futile his attempts at stopping him were. If McGarrett wanted to go, he would simply go and Danny wouldn't even be able to get up and grab him. Of course then he would most likely collapse not a hundred steps into the woods and then Danny wouldn't be able to resuscitate him because he couldn't crawl that far on one hand and one good leg.

"They had noticed that we'd disappeared from their radars," he tried as a last resort. The only reason he hadn't yet mentioned Steve's obvious injury was because Kono opened her eyes, woken up by their quarrel and Danny remembered that they shouldn't upset her. "And they had noticed that we hadn't landed as planned!"

"That does not mean they know where to find us." Steve looked down at him apologetically. "Listen, Danny, you'll be alright. You have all the supplies you need and-"

"It's not what I mean." Now Danny cut in. Okay, so he was ready to risk Kono's peace of mind if it meant keeping Super Seal out of killing himself. He didn't know why he cared. It was McGarrett's fault, so why shouldn't he suffer the consequences, right? At least, that was what he should feel but he didn't. He didn't want McGarrett to die.

Steve's brow furrowed, his lips pursed. He made a small, blink-and-you-miss-it, 'don't' move and repeated, "You'll manage," as if that was supposed to dispel all doubts.

Apparently he thought it did because he turned and walked away, not giving Danny another chance to disagree.

***

Steve was aware of his chest injury, had been from the very start. He knew his body - he had been trained to know it. In combat, being able to tell how much more one could endure was crucial to one's own and the team's survival. The reason he hadn't paid attention to his own predicament so far was simple - it was not severe! He'd suffered some bruising at most, had no broken or fractured ribs - they would give off completely different symptoms - breathing was not painful and the slight shortness of breath had only started bothering him a few minutes ago. He'd had it worse and right now there were other imperatives.

Like getting help.

He checked his watch. Over half an hour had passed since they'd crashed and no one had yet come to their rescue. It was not impossible that help was on its way, that they would land any minute. On the other hand they might be searching - the forest was vast - and they would find them in a few hours, when it would be too late for some of them.

One of the rules of wilderness survival was that if someone got hurt and there were no means of contacting the outside world, the fastest runner would go out for help, while the others would stay with the injured colleague and make sure he or she was resting and was well taken care of. The problem was that in their little group everyone was hurt.

Steve couldn't judge the severity of their injuries, he was not a medic. He could only guess at best. Danny's situation was rather obvious - he couldn't move. At least he was not at a risk of worsening the damage. Chin might seem like he was improving but Steve had seen a brain injury that appeared miraculously healed initially and resulted in sudden death not twelve hours later. The doctor, then, had said it was quite common. Blood would slowly accumulate inside the skull and would start to press against the brain tissue, causing irreversible damage. Chin was, in fact, Steve's greatest concern.

Kono seemed to be getting better. First stage of shock could sometimes be reversed even in out-patient settings and Steve had done all he could. Overabundance of supplies in the med-kid helped greatly. Now, the rookie needed to be warm, hydrated and calm, the latter meaning that she wasn't worried - Chin would conjure some distraction, at least as long as he himself was lucid - and not bothered by too much pain . . . Pain! Steve realized he'd forgotten to tell Danny to give Kono another shot of codeine before this one would wear out! He almost turned back but then decided he should trust his partner. Danny would know what to do. His mission was something else entirely and he needed to focus on that. Such wavering was not like him.

His cell-phone clearly indicated 'no bars' next to the reception icon. GPS was acting out, the dense canopy overhead preventing the satellite from getting a clear signal. Nonetheless, Steve downloaded a few sets of probable coordinates to the memory of the device and composed a SAR-REQ message that would automatically be sent as soon as his cell was in range of any tower.

Now he needed to get in that range. If his calculations were correct they were about twenty miles north-west from Hilo; five, maybe eight miles in a straight line south from the ocean and the string of small towns alongside Highway 19. He believed that it shouldn't take him more than a half-hour walk to find himself close enough to get reception.

After five minutes he realized he was winded.

The fern undergrowth was dense and cutting through it required some effort. Taller fronds sometimes tangled in his clothes, annoying and dangerous. He chose the route that led almost straight north, down the side of the mountain and at first the terrain was nearly flat. When it became steeper, he had to watch out for obscured earth cracks and smudges of mud and fallen leaves, slick after the rainfall. He found it surprising that his legs wobbled on the uneven ground, that he had to sometimes swing his knife twice to cut thickets out of his way. As he reached a clearing he stopped, leaned against a rough fern trunk and looked at the forest descending at his feet to the far-away ocean, to the misty horizon. The air was dense and moist and that made breathing harder.

That and the injury. Taking this opportunity for a little rest, Steve tried to inhale deeper and realized he couldn't take in a lungful of air. Something scraped at the back of his throat, deep down, rattled against his rib cage. Forced him to cough. It took a significant effort for him to stifle the fit.

This couldn't be good. He checked his watch again, then his cell phone. He was moving at a much slower pace than he'd planned. It might take longer to reach the highway so he needed to get going, not stay in one place. He gripped his knife tighter and pushed away from the tree.

Navy Seals were trained to ignore pain. That was the first lesson - pain is in your mind and your mind is more powerful than your body. Steve didn't feel pain per se, it was more of a discomfort, strange tiredness, but the fact that he was now thinking about his injury alone was an indication that it was aggravated. He had no time to lose. He gritted his teeth and sliced through the bush blocking his path. Again. And again.

He made twenty steps this way until his mind had no choice but to succumb to the demands of the body. His lungs refused to cooperate and he bowed in half in another coughing fit, stronger than the one before. Hands on knees, he fought - at first to hack out all that water flooding his airways, then to as much as draw in a breath. He couldn't. His vision narrowed and all he could hear was the thudding of blood in his own ears.

 

***

 **  
_Uluao'a_   
**

***

Coughing was good. Coughing helped. Having hacked out what felt like a bucket of mucus, Steve could actually breathe again. He straightened up on shaky legs and looked around. Ferns were smaller in this area, blanketing the ground, inclining their winding twigs toward him, reaching out, grasping. Huge koa trees emerged from the sea of ferns like giant hands with thousands of fingers, reaching toward the sky through the mist.

Steve shook his head rapidly. He had a mission, he remembered. He had to carry the message. Downward. Downward you go.

***

The sun streaming through the leaves would have made the scenery glorious, heavenly, if not for the still smoking remnants of the plane. The scent of burnt plastic hung in the air, mixed with the sweet smells of the forest and freshly fallen rain. It was surprisingly cold and Danny couldn't even walk or move in any other way to warm himself up. Kono was covered with a blanket and that was good, Danny wouldn't try to take it from her but he envied her nonetheless. The blanket. Not the injuries. Chin sat beside her but he was twitching, shrugging and rubbing his arms.

"You cold?" Danny asked harshly.

"Aren't you?"

"Maybe we should make a fire?"

"Have been waiting for you to say that."

"Why didn't  _you_  say it then?"

"I don't know," Chin furrowed his brow. "Actually, I think I have just thought of that."

"Ah." Danny wasn't in the mood to elaborate on the subject. He was grumpy and sleepy but he thought that if he fell asleep in this cold he would catch pneumonia on top of his other mishaps.

Chin stood up and started gathering branches, leaves, whatever it was that ferns had. They were all wet anyway.

"Won't catch fire," Danny grumbled.

"Don't worry," Chin smirked as if he knew some secret. Some Hawaiian spell probably, calling the deities of fire to descend and do whatever the deities were doing to help their disciples stay warm.

Where was Steve?

Danny glanced toward the forest at the ferns, cut where McGarrett went through and disappeared - Danny checked his watch - three minutes ago.

Chin walked towards a half-burned, smoking tree a few paces away. It had dark leaves and, once red, now withered and dirty-looking flowers.

"Careful!" Danny shouted after him, hating to feel so helpless. Chin didn't even turn.

Danny glanced at the bushes again. Someone should have gone with McGarrett. He was not in a good shape.

The tree was still hot and apparently dry enough for Chin's tastes. The branches chopped off easily so he brought some frayed bales and threw them on the ground next to Danny and Kono. He managed to get himself smudged all over in the process. They had a lighter in their magic med-kit and Chin didn't need long to set the still warm logs ablaze again. He covered the small flames with the least wet pieces of wood and they smoked like hell but did not extinguish the fire. Chin placed the rest of the fuel around strategically, so it would dry out.

"You're worried?" he asked out of the blue and Danny gave him a quizzical stare. "About McGarrett," Chin clarified. "You keep looking at those shrubs like you want to go after him. He's trained to deal with that kind of danger. He'll get us help in no time."

"Yeah," Danny snorted. He didn't realize how often he was glancing after McGarrett but he had a perfectly good reason to be concerned. "Except that he's injured," he muttered.

"I didn't notice." Chin stopped his ministrations to the fire and looked up at Danny as if doubtful that the detective was of clear enough mind to assess the injuries of others.

"He was slightly short of breath." Danny shrugged. Maybe he  _was_  making this up? Maybe he wanted Steve to be hurt like the rest of them, to finally be on the receiving end of his own idiocy! Not like this particular hassle really was a result of that, Danny thought begrudgingly. It was more of an error in judgment, not landing at that airport. Or maybe an error was dangerously close to idiocy? Really, Danny was going to neither defend nor condemn McGarrett right now! He would need to put the jury on hold until he had more evidence. As for now . . .

"Maybe I should go after him?" Chin said softly and Danny thought he had another idiot on his hands.

"And collapse there, alongside?" he yelled. Now that was too much, even for the doping effects of codeine. "Are you out of your mind? Oh, wait, you are, you had a concussion!" He flailed his free hand and as the bandaged one wanted to accompany it, the unexecuted gesture sent fireworks up his nerves. "Shit!"

"I won't go far."

"No, Chin," Danny said through clenched teeth, tears of pain stinging his eyes. "You will not go, period. It's enough that that demented moron McGarrett had gone out on his own and is laying there now, spitting his lungs out. I don't need to worry about you too!" He shouldn't have said that. He hadn't stopped McGarrett but he sure as hell could and should, and  _would_  stop Chin. Steve had said that Chin was supposed to listen to him, to do what he was told because he was incapable of making sound decisions. Was it an impulsive decision? Was it not like Chin to take stupid risks? Hell, yes! "No," Danny changed strategy. "He's probably fine and it's just my natural pessimism that makes me say that he's not. Hell, he's a Seal! He's trained at this and he sure as rain on a Sunday morning would know if he was too badly injured to go out, right? And if he was, he would not take off on his own! Seals do not cross the line like that! That's what they are taught at the Seal School! I know they are!" he didn't know. In fact he  _knew_ that it was probably quite the opposite. Truth was he was anxious with worry, couldn't get the feeling of dread out of the pit of his stomach and he desperately needed some - any! - clarification as to what had befallen McGarrett. But not at this cost!

Chin looked at him and listened to his rant with his Chin-Zen calm and then simply stood up.

"I will be quicker than him because I won't have to cut through the ferns. I will only go five minutes and if I don't find him keeled over in that time, I'll assume that he's alright and that he will carry out this mission."

"Bad idea." Danny poked his finger at Chin but he had no authority. None at all.

"Be back in ten."

Be back in ten, be back in ten, Danny ranted inside his head. He was left alone with his thoughts and he didn't like the prospect of feeling double-guilty in ten minutes.

It didn't help that he knew that, if he could move, he would have done the exact same thing.

***

Red ohi'a flowers blurred before Steve's eyes. Some of them flushed upward in a bright swarm. Like blood, like severed artery.

Those were birds. Birds, not blood. Not flowers.

Steve was getting dizzy.

He dimly thought that he should be somewhere else (hospital?), doing something else (laying still?) but another part of his mind insisted on pushing forward. He didn't cut the ferns out of the way anymore, knife hung limply in his hand, his palms scratched and torn.

He didn't know how long he'd been in the jungle, couldn't remember what had brought him here. They were in the wilderness for months and usually it was not that bad but then, they had water. Lack of water would do strange things to the consciousness and Steve knew that the only way his team would survive was if he informed the base about their position.

Were they ambushed? He couldn't remember. He vaguely recalled treating their wounds but no shots, no attackers. There were no enemy bodies. Maybe they'd all fled? But then why would they leave them, not kill everybody or at least take them hostage?

Steve stopped, suddenly terrified. What if they'd return with reinforcements? Did his team-mates have enough fire-power? Danny's right hand was immobilized, could he shoot with his left one? He was not a Seal and was not trained . . .

If he wasn't a Seal, then what was he doing on his team?

Who  _was_  Danny?

Steve stood in the middle of the sea of ferns and panted. The ferns surged and rolled like waves on the ocean. If he had a board he could surf but he hadn't done it in eighteen years. Had it really been that long? Most of his life. Without surfing. He could dive in and swim to the base; he was a good swimmer, he won school championships. Or was it at the Academy? His mother had wanted him to leave Hawaii, go to college in Berkeley, an alumna herself, but he wanted to stay and now, looking at red ohi'a flowers on the trees nearby he thought that he must have stayed, against her wish. Or maybe he hadn't left yet? Maybe she was still alive?

A sudden noise to his left startled him, made him jump, made him remember that he was a Seal, not a sixteen-year-old boy crushed after his mother's death. Only he wasn't a Seal anymore either. Someone was following him and Steve grabbed his Sig and pointed it at the forest. Everything was blurry and he couldn't breathe but he definitely saw a shadow, a figure. Heard a voice.

"Whoa, Steve! It's Chin Ho Kelly, put that weapon down."

"Who are you?" Steve gasped.

"Are you alright? I'm friendly. Steve? Steve!"

The world tilted on its axis and Steve found himself aiming at the ground only without the pistol in his hand. A clod of mud in his lungs moved and forced him into another coughing fit one he thought he would never recover from.

He did.

It felt like three years later.

"Chin," he gasped, surprised equally at the fact that his mind was clear now, that his ass was on the ground and that he was supported in a half-seated position by the Korean's arm and staring into his concerned face. Chin patted his lips with some cloth.

"You're coughing up blood," Chin stated. "Why didn't you say you were hurt?"

"I wasn't," Steve couldn't muster much more than a whisper.

"We need to get back." Chin said reluctantly. He looked up and around.

"Give me a moment . . . and I'll get up."

"You shouldn't, you know that."

"You shouldn't . . . be here either." He couldn't talk. He didn't have enough breath in him. But Chin was right, they should try and get back. Not so much for himself but for Chin's sake. He shouldn't be here. Someone should be watching over him, watching for signs of distress, changes in behavior. Passed out Steve was of no use and he knew better than to tell Chin to leave him and go back on his own. "I didn't . . . get far . . . did I?"

"No." Chin sighed and looked back at him. "I'll carry you."

"No, you won't! Head injury . . . remember?"

"My memory serves me better than yours now, I'm afraid."

"Let's keep it that way."

A few more breaths, as deep as he could without irritating his bruised lungs and Steve pulled himself up. He sat, despite Chin's protests.

"Now help me stand," he rasped after a moment, after the vertigo had passed.

Chin repeated that this was not a good idea but he refrained from arguing the point. A long, painful fifteen seconds later Steve was vertical and swaying only slightly. The tightness in his chest was disturbing and suddenly he thought that none of them was any good to the others or even themselves. Danny bandaged from neck to toes, Kono probably still out of it. They were as good as dead already.

Giving up seemed like a very tempting option.

Except that Steve McGarrett would not give up, not till his last breath. Quite literally, now.

Chin embraced him and Steve tried to not lean too heavily on his colleague but he couldn't help it when he stumbled or was simply too tired to put one foot in front of the other. They took a few breaks, too many if Steve had a say but he didn't; it was his body that did. He climbed the steep, five foot tall, slippery slope he'd gone down only minutes ago but Chin slid down.

"I'm fine, I'm fine! I'll be right up!" he called and indeed, he was next to McGarrett before the ex-Navy even gathered his wits. He must have passed out. "We have to go, we must go!" Chin panted, exasperated.

The smell of something burning, of the burnt plastic and wood soon became prominent and Steve knew they were close.

"C'mon, move." Chin urged.

And Steve did all that he could.

***

Two minutes passed, then five, then ten and then fifteen.

Danny got tired of laying flat and feeling guilty after two. He noticed a long thick branch in the grass ten feet away after five. After ten he was next to the branch, having crawled there and moaned and whined and complained like not even Rachel had ever heard. And after fifteen minutes, when Chin, half bent under McGarrett's weight emerged from the thickets he was still ass planted next to the damn stick that refused to serve as his cane. The only difference was that he was hurting more than before.

The sight of McGarrett though made him forget all about his own pain.

 

***

 **  
_Ho'ola_   
**

***

Steve woke up nearly twenty minutes later. The longest twenty minutes of Danny's life.

When Chin hauled him into their small clearing he was out cold. He coughed, almost choked but did not open his eyes. Chin propped him on the boulder Danny used for support not long ago and Danny crawled back near them. Every movement hurt but it didn't matter.

"Steve . . ." He grabbed his unconscious partner's wrist, searching for pulse. It was way too fast, his skin clammy. His lips and fingernails were blue and his breath rapid and shallow.

"What if it's a collapsed lung?" Chin asked, apprehensive, pulling Steve's shirt up.

"If it was, he'd be dead already," Danny said and winced at the sight of a palm-sized gash standing out against the sheet-white skin on the right side of McGarrett's chest. "Which is not to say it can't collapse any minute," he added. Where was that Search and Rescue party?

Chin fingered the bruise which had Steve recoil and moan but he still did not wake up.

"Can't feel anything broken, just swollen," the Korean declared, his voice high pitched. Then he leaned closer, pressing his ear against McGarrett's ribcage, listening to him breathe.

"Must be just as bruised inside," Danny muttered. "Blood and fluids are retaining and . . . he's drowning."

They needed that Search and Rescue, preferably  _NOW_! As things were - they were out of options; there was no chance in Hell they'd make it through this alive. Oh,  _he_  would, Danny thought, he wasn't fatally wounded. He would simply watch his friends die one by one and then . . . No! No, he  _had to_  believe that help was near . . . He had to cling to that hope like a life-line, like he clung to McGarrett's wrist. _Please, breathe. Please, be strong and breathe_.

"What happened?" they heard a faint, frightened voice and turned to see Kono, propped up on her arms, glaring at Steve with terror. She looked as if she'd woken up from a long, restless sleep which . . . she had, actually. Only to see another nightmare.

"Super Seal managed to get himself hurt like the rest of us mortals," Danny attempted a joke but it fell flat.

"We have to do something!" Chin sprung to his feet, one hand on his hip, the other one running through his hair.

"All we can do is keep him comfortable," Danny said quietly, glaring at the Korean. The situation was getting out of control. Kono's eyes darted from him to Chin, to Steve and back to Danny and he thought he sounded too resigned, too passive. He put a smile on his face. "Help is on the way," he assured, pouring as much conviction into his voice as he could.

Chin started pacing back and forth.

Danny needed to keep them calm; he was in charge now.

First things first. He let go of McGarrett's hand and, despite pain and fatigue, pulled himself closer to Kono. He had to maneuver between her, Steve's prone form and the small fire - he was not cold anymore and he almost laughed at how little he needed to get  _too hot_. Some anxiety and  _voila_! With his clumsy manner of mobility he nearly ended up faceplanted in the burning logs and his beauty was only saved by his natural grace.

Grace. A thought about his sweet little girl right now hurt so much that Danny simply couldn't . . .

"Show me that leg, lady." He blinked the wetness away and pulled up Kono's blanket. The bandage on her knee was covered in layers of blood in various stages of drying. One spot seemed fresh. "Chin," he called and had to repeat louder. "Hey, Chin! You'll have to put another layer of bandage here, I can't do it one-handed."

Kono stared at her cousin scared, teary-eyed, as he put on another tourniquet with shaking hands. Danny watched that too, feeling a void opening in his stomach, threatening to suck him in. Having finished tending to Kono, Chin stood up and started pacing again.

Danny's eyes met hers; she understood what was going on perfectly.

"They're gonna be here soon," he repeated but with less certainty, then changed the subject. "Here, have some water."

He wanted to get Chin to sit down, relax, but strangely enough the pacing seemed to have the desired effect rather than sitting still. The only thing Danny was afraid of was that Chin would walk into the forest and vanish but, for time being and after a few unsuccessful attempts he stopped pestering and let him pace. Meanwhile he returned to Steve's side.

And pacing Chin was the first thing Steve laid eyes upon when he finally opened them.

"Chin?" Danny heard his faint whisper and was in his face immediately.

"Don't talk. Save your breath. You're back with us?" he almost burst with tears when Steve's eyes, bleak under heavy lids, met his.

McGarrett closed them and opened in an unspoken, 'yes'.

Danny squeezed his palm and Steve's response was feeble but he felt his partner's fingers curl.

"It's okay. We're gonna be okay."

"He keeps telling me that," Kono sniffed from under her blanket. "And I'm kind of starting to believe . . ." her voice faltered and she hitched a sob.

"Codeine . . ." Steve breathed out.

"Are you in pain?"

"Kono . . ."

Oh, for fuck's sake! He was half conscious and he was still worrying about  _them_?

"I've got it under control, boss-man," Danny chastised him.

Steve lay still, eyes closed but, surprisingly, he nodded as if allowing Danny to take that burden off his shoulders.

"You trust your faithful sidekick, huh, partner?" Danny joked and this time he felt something akin to relief.

Steve's lips quirked in a faint smile.

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes and Steve's breaths were becoming longer, steadier. His fist curled tighter in Danny's as he fought to gain control over his own body. Danny watched his face with intent. Lips pursed, nostrils flaring, muscles in his neck standing out in an effort to get as much oxygen as possible.

Finally he looked at Danny again.

"What's . . . with Chin?" He needed a double-take to ask the question.

"Worse," Danny didn't want to lie. A few minutes ago Chin had crouched next to them and Danny could see his eyes up close. His right pupil was blown. Steve had been correct in his assumptions; he was bleeding to the brain.

"You hear?" Steve asked and Danny didn't understand what hearing had to do with anything. Was Steve delusional?

If he was Chin apparently shared the hallucination. All of the sudden he ran toward the still smoking plane, head lifted high and staring up at the sky and started waving his arms. "A chopper!" he yelled. "It's a rescue!"

Danny gaped at him and wanted to run over as well, see with his own eyes, because he couldn't believe it. A chopper? Now? When he'd almost lost hope?

Kono sat up too, hitching and sniffing. She listened intently then wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and smiled at Danny. "They've found us," she whispered. "You were right." Danny only hoped she wouldn't leap up and go after her cousin.

The buzzing he first took for some bug was indeed getting louder and soon he saw the propeller and then the whole machine in the gap plowed between the trees by their plane on its way down. Only then did he finally believe.

"They're here . . ." he breathed out, squeezing Steve's hand. They really were here.

The helicopter soon hung above the gap, engines roaring in the distance. Two paramedics slid down and Chin brought them to their little camp immediately.

"Bleeding . . . burns . . . shock . . ." Danny could hear him explaining frantically.

He could see the men's surprised stares as they gazed from the burned remnants of the plane to the four of them.

"How many of you were on the plane?" the first one obviously assumed there had to be some fatalities but Danny quickly denied his conviction.

"Just four of us."

"How's he?" The other paramedic kneeled next to Steve.

"Busted ribs-" Danny started but Steve cut in, grabbing the medic's sleeve.

"Chin-" he gasped. "Hit head. Bad. 'm better."

The paramedic looked at his colleague who was checking on Kono and at Chin hovering near, nearly knocking the man over with his untamed eagerness.

"We gotta take her now," the paramedic stated. "We have a room for two people on this chopper but the other one is only five minutes away. We gave them your location. Harry?" he inquired his partner, probably about Steve's state.

Danny couldn't believe the next thing that happened.

Of course they had to make a hard choice and of course Steve McGarrett, SuperSeal with survivor complex, or whatever it was that motivated him right now, urged them to take Chin.

Harry stood up and asked Chin to please face him. He grabbed his face and shone a lighter into his eyes. "Intracranial bleeding," was the diagnosis. "What day is it today?"

"What does it matter what day it is?" Chin erupted. "Take her now! She's in shock, she had arterial bleeding!"

"We are taking her." Indeed, Harry's partner was already securing Kono on a stretcher. "Will you accompany us to the clearing?"

"Clearing?" Chin repeated. "You have to take her to the hospital. Now!"

"We are about to. We need your help. Come with us."

And, just like that, the two medics left with the two patients and Danny stayed next to Steve who was silent and motionless once again. Danny wanted to curse and yell and rant him into the next century but when he watched the lines of pain etched into his features, he couldn't bring himself to even open his mouth. He was in pain himself, he was beyond exhausted and now that help was already here, he didn't even have it in him to fight. All he could do was hold Steve's limp hand . . .

"I have oxygen here," he heard Harry's voice. Oh, so Harry stayed! "How are  _you_?" he asked, mounting the gear on Steve's face.

"Broken collarbone and fucked-up knee," Danny explained tiredly.

"You need something for the pain?"

"He gave me codeine from our med-kit." Danny nodded at Steve. "It's still kind of working." Although not nearly enough, he added in his head.

"He?"

"Oh, he patched up all of us. Probably what knocked him out eventually."

Harry nodded. He took out his stethoscope and touched it to Steve's chest. Listened for a couple of heartbeats and shook his head. Danny froze. Harry placed the stethoscope in another spot and one more. "Damn," he muttered and started acting really quickly.

He pulled the stretcher alongside Steve and transferred him onto it, then yanked the mask off his face and took the gear that made Danny dizzy with fear. Harry bent Steve's head back, opened his mouth, inserted a metallic instrument there, through it the tube, pulled the instrument out and attached a bag to the tube. All of this in five seconds total. He started pumping immediately and listening to Steve's breathing through the stethoscope.

"What?-" Danny choked out.

"I can only hear his left lung," Harry responded, still focused on listening. Then his face lit up as he stared in the distance and waved his hand. "Over here!"

Danny didn't even hear the next chopper approaching.

He couldn't remember how they were transported into the machine; all he was really aware of was his intense fear for McGarrett. Once onboard the medics attached monitors to his chest and the sound of Steve's heartbeat somehow made Danny calmer, lulled him to sleep. Or maybe it was a shot he only semi-consciously registered. It was a strong cocktail, better than what McGarrett treated him with.

The last thing Danny was aware of before he gratefully slipped into oblivion was someone screaming into his ear through the roar of the chopper's engine, "Your friends made it; they'll be taken to the surgery shortly. So will the two of you. Looks like you were all very lucky today."

Danny wanted to stick that 'lucky' up the man's throat but he didn't have the strength any more. He would maybe do it later. Much later.

For now, he was going to enjoy simply being alive.

***

.end

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah. So. That's it.  
> Seriously, I'm not good with the 'comfort' part of 'hurt/comfort', so that's probably why I was trying to write an ending at the hospital, with all of them conscious and on the mend five times. Yeah, FIVE TIMES. None made sense. I decided to end the story here and just assure you that they are all going to be okay. Or almost okay. In a few months. Will you take my word for it? *puppy-dog-eyes*  
> It's been an incredible ride and I wanted to THANK EVERYONE who supported me through this, mainly on fanfiction.net. I had a blast!


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